Who You Are
by UnderTwilight
Summary: MidLink oneshot! Practically no fluff, but still very, very sweet. Most of this is Midna's emotional rant inside her own head.


"Are you all right?"

Maybe it was her mind, maybe it was her lack of confidence or maybe it was the amount of fear which ran through her veins. Whatever it was, she couldn't form a sufficient answer, so she simply remained quiet. Looking at him would be tricky, so she avoided that as well. Anything to do with him only tightened the chains around her wrists, and she could _feel_ blood pour down her tiny hands.

The hut was warm. She didn't know why, but this was the first feature she noticed about his home. The warmth. It only reflected who this man was. Warm. Ever so warm. Whereas she had always been cold, frozen inside, untouchable, inhumane. Light was far more powerful than Shadow; it easily pushed the darkness aside effortlessly. Too effortlessly.

Light offered so much warmth and she, the Shadow, wanted to hide herself within its brightness, keep herself protected in his bright wings, to finally feel safe and content. It was disturbing how Twilight had gradually fallen in love with Light.

And yet, the end was nigh. Soon, the Light would vanish from her side and she would be abandoned in darkness once again. She would _allow herself_ to be abandoned. Light and Shadow were always, and forever would be, separated; different.

 _I don't want to go back._

Nothing made sense anymore. The only thing that should ever matter to the Princess was her own Realm. As far as she was concerned, those Light Dwellers were revolting, banishing evils to fall into her rule. A cowardly punishment. However a Royal had no chance in the matter. They were born a Twili, ruled as a Twili, and were subjected as a Twili, and that was all. There was nothing _special_.

Those Light Dwellers were perfect in every way, and she hated each one of them for it.

Except she didn't know what "perfection" was, until she met him. A Sacred Beast. A man. A wonderful, generous, kind and _perfect_ man.

Compared to him, she was a wreck. She would always be a wreck compared to him.

Without even realising, the Sacred Beast had won the battle between them. He was victorious, but he never expressed such joy. To him, there wasn't a battle between them–– there never was. Merely a misunderstanding on both parts. He knew what she wanted, she knew what he wanted, and they could work together to achieve their own means.

Somehow the things she desired had become what he desired: Peace.

Never had she wanted _p_ _eace_. Her body, her mind, and her heart were filled with rage and vengeance.

Now, she couldn't feel anything except a soft, yet urgent bliss.

An emotion she was new to, but recognised.

It made her shiver how a simple boy had made her feel this way. Never had she felt so _weak_ and _useless_ , so desperate. The Twilight Princess was never desperate or needy, though. She shouldn't be. Throughout her childhood and teen years she disciplined herself to be distant, to set her mind on her people, and that was all. How dare this boy –– a _Light Dweller_ –– make her feel this way?

She could never hate him. Ever.

It was much too late. She hated herself for falling into such a pathetic, and easy trap.

A warm hand touched her shoulder. Then he squeezed. She inhaled, wanting him to hold her tighter, to hold her so tight they wouldn't be capable of breathing. But this man had always been gentle with her, even from the very beginning. He was such a gentle, tortured and beautiful man.

"Talk to me."

Hadn't she spoken to him enough? Yes, she had, but the words which usually escaped her lips were meaningless and not what she truly wished to say. However the Twilight Princess was a distant enigma. She would never talk to this man. He didn't deserve anymore scars from her.

Ironically, finding the correct words to say had always been a weakness on her part.

She knew that he was concerned. Witnessing her acting quiet and peculiar must be... _unsettling_. Despite what he may think, she did want to say something, but simply refused in fear she might upset him again, say things she didn't really want to say.

When she turned to face him, it was a foolish mistake. One day she would curse herself for doing this, for looking at him and meeting his proud gaze. His face might be soft, but his eyes were a different story. They expressed the fury which rushed through him, of a Divine Beast. How he had grown since they first met, how much of a man he had grown into.

Midna couldn't look at Link for very long. His eyes were a hurricane against the fire which burned in her own irises. It wasn't long until her fire was extinguished, and she surrendered to his kindness.

"Why won't you say anything?"

 _Because I don't want to lose you._

Always, she had been stubborn. She still offered no response, but, finally, the Wall broke, and some of her emotions tore free. Link observed the fire turn to water, but before he could do anything she roughly wiped her eyes before any tears could escape. No, she would never cry in front of him.

Even if she hid behind his wings, Link could still see her. The hurricane slowed, grew gentle and then disappeared. In replacement was a softness in his eyes, a loving relief. Midna still couldn't look him in the eye; it was impossible. He hurt her too much.

And he hugged her.

Two long, strong arms wrapped around Midna's tiny form and Link pressed her closely to his chest. Little did she know the man was smiling, and all he felt was Peace. The Twili didn't return the affection. For a good few seconds, she was frozen, mirroring what she was inside: frozen, cold, hard to crack. His warmth soon became too much, and she melted, exhaled slowly, and at once every strain in her body loosened.

She could feel and hear his heartbeat. The very organ which kept him alive, kept the blood pumping around his body. How _frightened_ she felt just listening to it, in constant fear that there would be a day it would stop beating. That there would be a day he would leave this world, and she wouldn't be there to witness the tragedy. She would not be there to keep him steady, to hold him close.

Midna gave in. She _clung_ to his tunic, inhaled his scent, loved him for who he was.


End file.
